What Luna Said
by SilverCrystalArtemis
Summary: Based on "What Sarah Said", by Death Cab for Cutie. As a Veela's mate lays, dying, in St. Mungo's, they reflect on the years they spent together, and the admittedly magical journey that brought them there. Unabashedly AU.
1. Chapter 1

What Luna Said

By SilverCrystalArtemis

Summary: Based on "What Sarah Said", by Death Cab for Cutie. As a Veela's mate lays, dying, in St. Mungo's, they reflect on the years they spent together, and the (admittedly) magical journey that brought them there.

AN: Yes, yes, I know... I have two unfinished stories; how on earth could I even contemplate starting a new story? Well, I can answer that; inspiration. Unfortunately, it is virtually nonexistant on either SMLRM or HATM, but I figure, If I'm going down I should at least make the trip worthwhile, right? So here you go. Another piece of *cough cough* genius, from my poor addled brain.

By the way, if you've never heard the song, I suggest you listen to it. It's not often I use lyrics in the midst of stories, but I think this chapter warrants it. Nevertheless, actually hearing the song, I think, brings another dimension to this entirely.

Also, while I think the epilogue of DH is complete and utter tripe, I enjoy some of the next generation, so you will see them present *hint hint*.

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What Luna Said

Chapter One

The sudden knocking on the door awoke the man from his, albeit, restless slumber in the too uncomfortable hospital chair in his wife's private room. Though St. Mungo's far surpassed most muggle hospitals in medicine and doctor-patient interaction, they were still wearily behind when it came to the comfort of patients' families.

He shifted, a painful feeling in his left arm and lower back played testimony to the many nights he'd spent here, now, in the same position, bent over onto his wife's bed with her hand cradled in his own.

He looked to the door to see his son enter, and quietly close the door behind him. While the sound of knocking had woken his father (he'd been sleeping on pins and needles since this whole catastrophe started), it did nothing to interrupt the slumber of the witch in the bed.

His son looked almost remorseful, having broken the quiet serenity- so rarely seen, now- between his parents. He stepped over to his father, still sitting in his chair, still holding his mother's hand, and quickly squeezed his other in a sign of affection.

"Has she woken at all?" he asked, and immediately regretted it. The defeated look in his father's eyes was answer enough.

"No. She's been asleep since you left yesterday. Which is good, though. The healers say she'd probably be in a lot of pain, even with the potions..." A strangled breath, then silence.

"Victoire's outside with Cass and Leo. We thought it would be best if they got to say goodbye...."

The silence hung between them. Both father and son loathing to admit that the matriarch of their family was leaving them. The steady sound of people walking by, of families talking, of life happening outside the door was reminder enough of what they would be loosing.

After a few moments, the younger man turned to his father, and let out a deep sigh. "Father, have you eaten anything? Have you even moved? You know Mom-"

"I know, son I just...." Another choked breath. "I don't think I have it in me. I can feel her pulling away; the closer I am, the less it hurts."

"Dad, I know. But you need to, for her sake. Imagine what she'd think, how she'd feel..."

A bitter laugh left the old man; it almost hurt. "I'd hope, after over a damn half century, she'd understand the bond."

"You know Mom. She'd be her usual stubborn self, demand you not fall into some 'silly well of self-pity."

Another laugh, not as bitter, not as forced. More resigned. He squeezed his wife's hand, needing to remind himself of her presence.

"Mom....Mom knows what's going to happen, right?" Almost afraid to ask. Almost afraid to run the cut deeper.

"She knows. You think that she'd get herself into something without examining every aspect of the situation? Hell, when I first went to talk to her about the bond, she came to me with five books worth of information already memorized. She'd already figured it out, you see. She already knew. And she was going to teach me all about myself." Another squeeze of her hand. "She doesn't like it, but she knows."

Silence. There never used to be much of it in this family. She'd always make sure there was laughter, and conversation, and bonding. It seemed that, with her, left the mark she made on the very hearts of these men.

The young man sighed. "Dad, I'm going to go help Victoire with the kids. Poor Cass is beside herself. You'll let me know if anything changes, mm?" A sharp nod from his father- always the same, proud man- though his eyes never left his wife.

The son took a few steps, stood by the door, but never opened it. He turned back to his parents, studying them for a moment. He couldn't call to mind a time when they weren't hopelessly in love, always touching, always, well, _bonded_.

"Dad?" his father turned to him, his only acknowledgement of the question.

"Dad... with Mom... has it...well, has it ever changed? The bond?"

He looked at his son, almost studying him, something he learned from his wife.

"No, Scorpius. It still feels the same."

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Okay, I know, weak ending. However, I couldn't find one good enough. Maybe someday, I'll come back and fix it. Either way, I hope you enjoyed. PLEASE R&R, it keeps me going. Also, I wasn't sure if I should post the characters when I added this story, because I do so love adding an air of mystery, even in the first chapter....Anyway....rambling.....words.....pidgeons.....potato salad.....yea....


	2. Chapter 2

What Luna Said

By SilverCrystalArtemis

I realized I forgot the disclaimer in the last chapter...silly me. I own nothing recognizable, and if you could see my bank account, you'd know I'm making NO money off of this. I just like to feed my ego.

AN: So, just maybe, I have the whole story planned out. Maybe not. Maybe just 79.425724261%. You won't know. And I know I said I'd put the song throughout the last chapter....It kinda got away from me. It's not my fault; the story is a living, breathing, beast, and it just happened to eat my script. ....Tell me, does that work as well on you as it didn't on my teachers? :Ahem: back to the topic....I *plan* on randomly inserting quotes from the song into the story, but like I said, we'll see how storymonster likes it.

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Chapter Two

Scorpius Malfoy shut the door behind him, staring at the cheap tiles lining the floor. He hated hospitals; muggle or magical. They all had this horrid smell that would never wash from the wall...a level of decay, disease, death.... And it always, paradoxally, managed to smell too clean. Like too many sanitizing spells had been used. He remembered, when he was home for summer just after his first year, his mother had taken him into muggle London, to visit his grandmother in the hospital. It reeked.

He remembered his mother explaining to him as they walked down the halls, what the beeps were coming from different rooms, how, being in the ICU unit, they had to sanitize everything. Some muggle chemical alternative to magic. 4-0....something. All he knew was that seeing his grandmother, hooked up to those machines, breathing for her, monitoring her heart (his mother explained how it alerted doctors when something went bad), the tubes and needles attached so perversely to her person, it was the most horrific sight his young eyes had ever beheld. He remembered having nightmares for weeks.

He didn't realize, but as he had been thinking, his feet had led him to the waiting room for the floor. Noticing the change from tile to carpet, he looked up at the people gathered. Some of them he recognized from work, some from his school days years ago. Everyone looked up as he entered, but most of them turned away, focusing on their own lives, troubles. He walked over to the small group of people waiting for him; his wife and children, his mother's best friends, and a few of their children. He was suprised by how quickly they had gotten here; he'd have to thank Victoire later for contacting them all.

Answering the unspoken question in his wife's eyes, he told them all as he sat down, "She's still asleep. And Dad hasn't moved." Still looking at the ground, he felt his wife's hand grasp his tightly, an unspeakable comfort.

"Daddy?" His four year old daughter was trying to climb into his lap, but having a hard time of it in the cramped waiting room chair. He pulled her up, put her on his lap, hugged her tightly with the arm not attached to his wife. There were tears in her eyes, and she sniffled, quickly wiping her nose in her father's shoulder. He just held her close; for once he didn't mind the dirty robes. There were far more important things going on. Scorpius ran his hand over her hair, trying to calm her down.

Everyone was quiet for some time. Then again, there wasn't much to say. They all knew too well how much they were going to miss her. It was through her that this jumbled mess of people became a family. How the Potters and the Weasleys became friends with the Malfoys. How the Malfoys and the Weasleys accepted the wedding of their own children, not only without bloodshed, but with a sense of joy. How Christmas was no longer a quiet, dull affair at Malfoy Manor. How Malfoy, Draco now- or "Uncle Draco"- becamse like an eigth son to Molly Weasley.

"And now for the weekly Warbeck Hour. Nonstop Cecilia Warbeck, from 1 to 2, every Thursday, here on the WWR." The sound of the radio filtering into the room shocked Scorpius out of his thoughts. He hadn't realized he'd been at the hospital so long now. He looked down, his hand still mechanically caressing Cass's blond hair, and noticed she fell asleep, head still buried in her father's shoulder.

Again he glanced around the room at his immediate and extended family. Leo was curled up on his Auntie Lily's lap, who was sitting next to her father and mother, both white haired. Next to his wife were her parents, and past them were his father-in-law's youngest brother, and one of his mother's oldest friends.

He'd never known Ron very well when he was younger; during his childhood his mother and Ron had experienced a falling out, so he never came by, and the man having never had children himself, Scorpius never had much of an excuse to see him on the holidays. It wasn't until Scorpius got into a relationship with Victoire that he even spent more than the occasional Christmas-at-the-Potters visit with Ron, but he slowly grew to like the guy. To the point where he helped him and his mother rebuild the relationship they'd shared as children.

The door to the waiting room opened, revealing a kindly looking nurse with long curling hair. The entire occupancy looked up, expecting and dreadful. The nurse smiled, or at least tried to; it was difficult to find happiness on this floor. She looked around the room as she asked, "Malfoy?" On the other side of the room heads went down, relieved sighs escaping those who'd just escaped a loved one's fate. On the "Malfoy side", however, shoulders tensed, inward gasps, eyes remaining locked on the potential grim reaper at the door.

She walked over, slowly, and Scorpius stood, still holding his daughter. The steady, muffled clip-clop of her thick white shoes as she walked to them was maddening; she prolonged their agony, their worry.

"Mr. Malfoy asked me to come and collect you. He says Mrs. Malfoy is awake, and would like to see all of you. Please come with me."

En masse, the group stood, and Scorpius gently roused his daughter. Even though they knew exactly where the room was, they followed the nurse through the hallways, past rooms and other lives, other families, going through the same thing. they arrived at the door, and the nurse turned to them.

"Normally around here, we have a limit on visitors, but I personally think it would do them both some good to have such a crowd." She offered another smile, this one seeming more genuine, "Nevermind the fact that she practically demanded to see all of you... not awake ten minutes and already causing fights with her Healer."

A weak laugh came from Harry and Ron, both recognizing the stalwart personality they'd known since childhood.

The nurse shifted, slightly uncomfortable, and moved away from the door. She started to walk away, but turned around after only a few steps, and said, "She's due for a check-in from Healer Werns in about twenty minutes. Don't worry, though; he won't give you any trouble. All you need do is remind him of the Malfoy name..." She walked back to the nurses' station, her shoes echoing harshly off the walls.

Deciding not to waste any more time, Scorpius opened the door with one had, his daughter still held firmly against him with his other. The group filed in behind him quickly, though they didn't make it much farther than the door. Each one of them felt nervous, ill-at-ease, almost unready to face the situation glaring them boldly in the face. Each one dreading saying goodbye.

The sight that greeted them as they turned to the bed was an ironically cheerful one. Surrounded by balloons, and flowers, and stuffed animals (most chosen by Cass and Leo), and the wall lined with cards, the woman in the hospital bed sat holding her husband's hand, his chair pulled tight against the bed. She smiled at her family and friends as they entered, her light grey curls laying against the back pillow, and her warm brown eyes, though glassy, still emitted a sense of laughter and intelligence that was a hallmark in the woman.

She tried to life herself up to a seated position, but her husband fussed, standing up over her and trying to at once help her and push her back down. "Mya, dear, you don't-" but she immediately cut him off, "Hush, Draco. I've spent so long like this I think I've developed an infestation of Wrackspurts or something." Her joke only elicited a weak smile from her husband, worry still painfully evident in his eyes. She huffed, defeated, and lay back down. She turned to her visitors, and forced a smile, this one more rueful than befitting her. At the same time, Draco reached behind her, fluffing her pillows, and arranging them so she could be in a more upright position. Unfortuately, this only proved to her guests just how bad off she was. They could clearly see the pallor of her skin, the sweat sticking to her brow, the slight shake she tried to hide.

Scorpius stepped forward then, intent on breaking the awkward moment. He leaned down, daughter still in his arms, and kissed his mother on the cheek. She smiled, a real one this time, and it only got brighter as Cass leaned in her father's arms to kiss her grandmother as well. As Scorpius leaned up, he had to hold back the shock he felt. Her skin was too cold, her pulse too low....

"How are you doing, Mum?"

"Oh, I'm doing just fine. Especially having all of you here. It's so wonderful to see you all again!" There was the Hermione Malfoy they knew, making light of her own situation; his father said it was something she inherited from all the time she spent at the Burrow as a child- stories Scorpius had never gotten the chance to hear. Had never really thought to ask about.

He looked over to his father. He seemed happier now than he was when she was asleep, more relaxed being able to interact with her. Still, however, he could see, could almost feel the emotional agony his father was experiencing, had been experiencing through the past three weeks. Scorpius walked over to his father's side of the bed, leaning his daughter down to greet her grandfather as well. Draco seemed almost hesitant at first, but the sharp squeeze from his wife's hand- still held in his own- was the comfort he needed to reach up with his other hand and give Cass a small one-armed hug as she kissed his cheek. Scorpius then put her down, and she ran immediately to her mother's side.

Victoire had Leo by the hand, and was walking him to greet his grandparents as well. Cass went to grasp her hand, but at that moment Victoire lifted Leo into her arms, to give him the proper height to greet his grandmother. He did like his sister, a small peck on the cheek, one which Victoire mimicked as well. She then walked him over, and repeated the routine with Draco. As she put the boy down, right by his sister, who had followed them both, she took a step back to stand by her husband, taking his hand again.

Despite their efforts, the room still hung with a level of uncertainty, as if handling precious glass. There was something breakable in the very air, and the rest of the party was wary to move, lest they shatter that unexplainable, important something.

Hermione huffed, impatient, and glared playfully at the group by the door. "I'm sorry," she said, in a voice somewhere between reprimanding and playful, "I thought you had all come to see me."

Something about this seemed to diffuse the moment. Nervous smiles on their faces, Harry, Ginny, Ron, the entire group moved to Hermione's sidegreeting her with hugs, small murmurs of hello, or a "We've missed you," or "good to see you." It seemed more like another one of their many get-togethers, if not for the knowledge in the back of everyone's heads. That this wasn't a hello, it was a goodbye...

The collective reworked themselves around the bed and chair, offering greetings to Draco and acting, best as they could, that this was a moment to celebrate, not mourn. In an effort to keep the feeling light, they tried their best at small talk; how the children had done in school, how their professors were (especially Professor Longbottom), how Hermione had liked her gifts ("Cassie and I picked out this bear, and she wanted that balloon, but I said it was too girly and you'd like the Quidditch one, so Mum got both"), how Arthur and Molly were (trying to get James or Albus, or both, to move in; the house was too quiet with none of their own brood around), how George and Anjelina were ("busy as always, you know. Still won't hire outside the family for help"), how Harry and Ron couldn't wait for retirement, what their plans were ("Well, Ginny and I plan a nice, long tour of the continent. Trying to convince this one to join us.").

The last one struck Draco. He hadn't considered that before just now, how all their plans for the future were efficiently shot to hell. He swallowed the lump building in his throat. He didn't want to ruin everybody else's somewhat good moods. but all he could think of now, forgetting the voices around him, now dulling to a low buzz, was the fact that they'd never celebrate another anniversary; how she'd never get to see what he and his son had been planning for her birthday, how so many things he'd dreamed of happening he would never see.

"Draco? Draco?" He turned to his wife, remembering where he was. Her sad look was enough to tell him he hadn't been holding it in as well as he'd thought. However, she was determined not to ruin the visit, so she plastered that smile back on her face, and said, "Harry asked you a question, love."

"Sorry, got a little lost in thought. What was the question, Harry?" Who would've thought back in their school days that these two men would one day become friends, let alone calling each other by first names?

"I asked how the hospital food was treating you, mate. Or has Blunky been bringing you snacks to hold you over?" Weak attempt at a joke. But it was worth a try.

"Oh, well, I-" Draco was effectively cut off from having to answer that question by a firm knock at the door, followed by the entrance of Healer Werns.

* * *

AN: Okay, so that was that. I hope it didn't seem too....forced. I was having a hard time getting it out, and I think it's a little obvious I struggled. Ah well, please tell me what you think. I know there's more of you reading this than my three (TOTALLY AWESOME) reviewers, so please please please! Let me know what you think!


	3. Chapter 3

What Luna Said

By SilverCrystalArtemis

AN: So, the reason this chapter took a while to get out is because I was away, visiting some friends. But courtesy of the amazing notebook that never leaves my side (and I mean never), I was able to get home and type it all up, just for you! Not to mention that about half of chapter four is written already.

Now, I KNOW there are HUNDREDS of you reading this. You see, I cast a _hominum revelio_ on the page (who'd of thought it would work on fanfics? Yea, I know. Totally blew my mind.) Now, I'm not trying to be needy, but WHY aren't you reviewing?! I want to hear what ALL of you are thinking; the good, the bad, the random, and the out-of-left-fields. It's a little disheartening to see over 300 hits, and....9 reviews. I can't tell if it's because you don't want to say anything, or it's so bad you can't say anything, or you have a personal vendetta against little blue links....

Also, I thought you might enjoy a switch in focus, here. A little fluff, a little angst, and a box of tissues. I hope.

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What Luna Said

Chapter Three

Two hours later, the guests filed out of the room, promising to come back and visit later in the day. Everyone seemed to accept Hermione's excuse of "exhaustion" and "needing some rest after all the excitement". Everyone, that is, except her husband.

Soon as the room cleared, Draco shifted his attention fully to his wife. He turned his chair to face her more completely, he reached with his right hand to grab at her unheld one. No matter how much he wanted to, he couldn't meet her eyes, and the levels of accusations staring back at him. He turned his head away, looking down at their intertwined hands, now wrinkled and worn. He played with her engagement ring and wedding band, twirling them around her finger. He didn't like to think of how thin she had gotten; if it wasn't for the unlosable charm cast on both rings, they would have simply slipped off her emaciated fingers a while ago.

"Draco," she said softly, though still with an authoritative tone. Like when she used to reprimand Scorpius. He refused to look up, refused to put himself in a position where he would start crying again. It only made everything hurt worse, and it made him feel inadequate. "Love," she said, voice softer now, almost strained. Still he refused to look up, merely squeezed her hands, still toying with the rings.

She sighed, deciding this was the most of his attention she was going to get, and started to talk. "Love, when was the last time you even left that seat? You need to get up, go get something to eat, spend some time out of this room, go sleep at home-"

Draco's head shot up, at the last one, and Hermione, loath though she was to admit it, could see the almost tangible fear in his eyes. He stared at her, caught somewhere between dumbstruck and furious. How could she even think that he could so much as enter their home without her?

"Mya, I-"

She cut him off. "Draco, please. Just take care of yourself a little. That's all I'm asking. Seeing you like this, it hurts."

"And seeing you like this kills me, Mya." He knew she would drop it, then. He knew, she knew, that he needed to be there. That he couldn't leave. It wasn't physically possible. Not anymore. He'd tear his soul to cease the pain she was in; how, then, could he leave her for one moment?

They sat in silence a while. Neither of them wanted to argue, and neither of them knew they couldn't change the other's mind. She would try to force him out, so he wouldn't watch her suffer, and he would die before he left her side. Draco continued to play with her rings, watching the lights in the hospital room reflect off the gems.

Suddenly, Hermione started chuckling. Draco looked up at her, surprised and bemused. This is the first time he heard an honest to goodness laugh from her in three weeks. "Do you remember," she said between giggles, "The time when Scorpius was almost three, and we took him to my parents? He got so covered in mud that Mum had no idea what to do, and just stuck him in the washing machine. You remember the look on her face?" And Draco had to smile. He could see Scorpius now, with his toddler-fine hair dirtied to a darker brown than his mothers, and no visible skin under the caked on filth.

"Or the time we had your parents over for Christmas dinner, and Blunky almost gave your Mum a heart attack, popping up behind her?"

"Or that time I let you talk me into going to a Muggle concert?"

"Or our attempt to paint the nursery by hand?"

He laughed there, a big, strong laugh that made Hermione smile. It was the way her husband used to be. "Oh, I remember that one, Dearest. 'Oh, Draco, it'll be so much more personal if we do this the Muggle way. If we really put ourselves into it.' " he mimicked her, his trademark smirk on his face. "Though if I recall, you were perfectly happy to pull out the wands seven hours into it."

"That was because you poured blue paint down my shirt, you prat!" She smacked his arm playfully, and they both laughed hard. Just like they used to.

Suddenly, Hermione went quiet. Draco squeezed her hand, concerned. She started coughing, choking on her own breath, and the sound physically struck Draco. This had happened before, but no matter if it was the first, or as the case may be, twelfth time, it always caused him to panic, always caused that white-hot heat to wrap around his chest like a vicious constrictor. Tears were falling fervently down his cheeks as he watched her suffer, knowing he could do absolutely nothing to stop it. For the very first time in their life together, he couldn't be her hero.

The coughs became more violent; sickening, wheezing gasps of breath between great, hacking barks. She was literally choking. Coughing with enough force to actually lift her off the bed. Draco shot up in his chair, still refusing to let go of her hand, but desperate to do _something_. His head twisted wildly from side to side, eyes searching the room for anything, anything at all that could help. _Oh, please,_ he thought, _Please, not like this. _Draco did the only thing he could thing of; he screamed for help.

Mediwizards came dashing into the room, five of them, and gathered around the bed. Spells started spewing from wands, frantic muttering from lips. Draco was almost shoved away from Hermione when a particularly young healer tried to get closer to her lungs, her heart. Closer to the problem. He held steadfastly to her hand, but shifted a step toward the wall, giving the man the chance. A flash of yellow light erupted from his wand, and connected to Hermione, in the center of her chest. The light pulsed, once, twice, then disappated.

Hermione fell back onto the pillows, like some sick imitation of a rag doll. Her fit had stopped, but it left her too weak to do anything more than make weak, shallow attempts for the air her body craved, her eyes closed, face still screwed into a mask of pain. A mediwizard on the other side of the bed pulled out a small vial from a pocket of his robes, a faded lilac colored potion within. With the help of his associates, he lifted Hermione, and poured the liquid down her throat. Within seconds, the shuddering breaths gained some semblance of strength, of vitality, and the Mediwizards laid her back down, and quietly walked out of the room.

Draco fell back into the chair, limp, his heart pounding a brutal rhythm against his ribcage. _This was almost it. This could have been the end_. That thought, mingled with the image of his wife laid back, weakly, still gasping for breath against her pillows, broke Draco. He fell forward onto his wife's bed, and gasping sobs wracked his body, too overcome with sorrow to even make a noise.

After a few minutes, Hermione turned her head, and looked at her husband. "Darling," she murmered, running the fingers of her right hand through his hair as he wept over her left, "Darling, please, you can't blame her. It was an accident. She needs you, now, Draco." Draco let out a keening sob now, shaking brutally, bent over his wife's bed. Her deathbed.

Draco should have known she knew. She could always read him better than anybody. No matter how hard he tried to hide things from her, she always found out if she put her mind to it. He remembered the first few years, how she was so insistant that he not spoil her too much, that she determined to find out every surprise he had planned for her, and put a stop to the ostentatious ones (many a birthday getaway to Spain or Japan had been transfigured into a quiet weekend at home by the fire). Years later, she decided to let him have his fun and spoil her, so she just kept her nose out. But she could always tell when something was hurting him.

He couldn't think of anything to say to her. He couldn't convey to her, couldn't even fully explain to himself, how he could harbor this kind of hatred for something so sweet, so kind, so inherently innocent. But his mate had been harmed, tortured even. Killed, slowly. He was at war with his very instincts, surely she must know that. Hell, if it had even been Harry bloody Potter who did this, he'd have been dead by now. The Veela in him wanted blood for the loss of his mate; he thought he was doing a fair job of keeping it to a low hum of hatred.

He wished there were a way to explain it to her, but no matter how much he tried, she would never fully understand how it felt to be in his position. As his mate, she experienced a feeling of love so acute most thought it only existed in fairytales. That was nothing compared to his side of the bond. He could feel invisible strings, conduits from every one of her fibers to his own. They ran from her fingertips to his, her heart into his own, her very sould to his. She was his everything precious, and she was leaving. And it was ripping those fibers, and in turn, ripping him.

"Mya," he tried to hold back his tears. He tried to talk to her. He needed to talk to her. Any excuse to hear her voice, to know she could still respond, for as long as possible. They could talk about the sheet's thread count, for all he cared. So long as she talked to him. "Mya, I'm sorry. I can't help it. I wish I could do what you ask, I wish I could forgive her, but I-"

"Hush, Draco. Just come up here and hold me." So he did.

Holding her in his arms, cuddled up against her like they used to, every night in their own bed, Draco felt at once more comfortable than he had in weeks, and worse than he had in his entire life. Never had he hurt this horribly, down to his very soul. It ached. It burned. It ripped itself apart into little ribbons that fell into a black abyss. As he heard Hermione's breathing even out into sleep, he curled up tighter against her, burying his head in her curls, and let the tears fall.

* * *

Scorpius heard his father's scream, and saw a band of Mediwizards dashing down the hall. Terrified, he jumped up, and started following.

He got to the door to his mother's room as it closed. He could hear his mother; Merlin, this was horrible. He tried to open the door, but it wouldn't budge. Damn emergency charms. He struggled with the handle for a moment, until a nurse came up to him, and put her hand on his shoulder. He turned his head, looking at the woman, almost glaring, almost pleading.

"Sir, I'm sorry, but you can't go in there right now." She at least looked apologetic, but Scorpius didn't give a damn.

"To Hell with that! That's my mother! If-"

"Sir, I really am sorry, but I can't let you in there."

Dammit, he hated to do it, but he pulled the name card. "Do you know who I am? Do you know exactly how much money my family has donated to this institution? Do you even know the name Malfoy?"

If if was any other time, Scorpius would have been highly impressed by the woman's steadfastness. She reminded him of his mother. "Sir, I am aware. But, money or not, you're going to have to wait until they've done their job."

Scorpius sighed, resigned, and took the few steps to the other side of the hallway, directly across from the door. This wasn't right; if they... Merlin, if they weren't able to save her this time...

Scorpius hadn't realized it until just now, but Victoire had followed him. So caught up was he in th goings on that he hadn't sensed her, hadn't felt her nearby. She was standing against the wall, trying to convey as much comfort and support as she could through her eyes. He reached out to her, grabbed her hand, and pulled her tight into his arms. Neither could speak; there were no words that could comfort. They stood there, against the wall, holding each other, and waiting for something, anything, to happen.

The room got eerily quiet, and Scorpius sucked in a breath, holding it. Unable to let it go, lest he let go all hope alongside it. A moment or two later, the Mediwizards walked out, faces long. Scorpius's breath hitched. One of the men looked up, making eye contact, and Scorpius recognized him from Hogwarts; Trevor Boot, his name was. He gave Scorpius a smile, although forced, and walked off with his coleagues.

Scorpius felt himself relax, felt Victoire squeeze him, but didn't realize he had started to cry. She was alright. She was alive. This wasn't the end yet. He walked back to the door, Victoire still on his arm, but before he could turn the handle, he heard his father. The sound broke his heart. His father had always been a strong man, had never bowed so far down to something in his life. Yet here, he could very nearly hear the heartbreak, could almost hear the anguished thoughts running through his father's head. He heard the muffled sound of his mother's voice, and then his father's cries grow louder. He couldn't break this private moment. And he couldn't stay here, outside this door, any longer. He and his wife turned, and slowly made their way back to the waiting room, Victoire rubbing small circles on his back.

He looked at his wife while they walked, studying her. Again. He never got sick of it; she was the most wonderful woman in the world, and every day she managed to take his breath away. He remembered how their relationship had shocked everyone who knew them; two seperate Houses, and then the six year age difference, and beyond that, who had ever heard of two Veela bonding together? Yet here they were, with two children of their own. They had defied so many odds, so many prejudices and expectations, and they were happy. Bonded. It made him wonder how it must have been like for his parents; they went through so much of the same, and still had a war to contend with.

He thought of his father again. Losing his mate, so early. He couldn't imagine losing Victoire that soon. Not even a hundred years... He knew what it was to feel a mate in danger, yes, even to feel a mate in great amounts of pain. But to feel and watch your mate die a slow death... that could only be agony beyond words.

As they re-entered the waiting room, the entire group looked up anxiously, fearing the worst. Victoire, thankfully, saved him from having to speak as they walked back to their chairs. "She's okay for now," she said, taking her daughter into her arms. "But she's probably going to be resting for a long while."

They sat in silence again. Nobody could really say anything for comfort. They all knew the end was coming soon. Hours, perhaps.

Another person entered the room, and again, in a practised ritual, every head lifted up. Neville Longbottom stood in the doorway, folding his travelling cloak over his arm as he began walking to them. Ron rose up out of his chair, giving the other man his seat. Nods were given by way of greeting, or a small handshake here, kiss on the cheek there. As he sat down, he stretched his legs out in the space in front of him, rubbing his right knee. He didn't need to ask how things were; the looks on everyone's faces was enough of an answer.

"Scorpius, Hannah is coming by later, but she wanted me to tell you she sends her love." he started, turning to the man. Scorpius nodded; it was all he could do. He had so many thoughts rushing through his head, battling for dominance. Each one opening up a new stream of open ended and often unpleasant thoughts.

"Oh, and we've just heard from Luna. She's on her way."

* * *

AN: Yea, anyone who can catch the HP&Me reference, ten points to your House! Also, there is a David Bowie reference in this chapter. And, just maybe, those who can tell me either reference will get a special something....*wink wink*


	4. Chapter 4

What Luna Said  
By SilverCrystalArtemis

AN: I'm a little disappointed here, guys. So many views, so few reviews. Pwease? Wuv me? But aside from that, from this point on, the story's actually going to be following 2 count 'em, 2! different times. So watch for the amazing bar of scene change, K? And, as always, I can't wait to hear what you think, whatever it is.

Okay, so I just noticed that FFN buggered my flashback scene. This is a repost, not a new chapter. Sorry.

* * *

What Luna Said  
Chapter Four

"Luna's coming?" Asked Ginny, shock in her voice. And rightly so; nobody had seen Luna since Cass and Leo were born, four years ago. She had gone on some long, arduous Snorcack discovery mission (again) with her husband, and nobody had been able to contact her. They all had tried. "How were you able to get in touch...?"

Neville smiled, and reached into a pocket in his robes. When he pulled his hand out, Scorpius was confused; all he held was a galleon, nothing special.

Then he heard Harry and Ron laugh. "Is that...?"

Neville chuckled himself. "Yeah. Never could bring myself to get rid of it. Luna, either, apparently."

As Ginny started laughing, Bill, Fleur, Victoire, Lily, and Scorpius looked at the four confusedly. Finally, Fleur spoke up. "I don't get eet," she said looking to Ginny. "What ees so special? Eet ees just a galleon..."

"You would think that," Ginny replied, smiling at her sister-in-law. "But it's actually something Hermione came up with in her fifth year, for the DA members. It's how we kept in touch about meetings."

"The DA?" Scorpius asked, because though the answer appeased Bill and Fleur, himself, his wife, and Lily were still wearing puzzled expressions.

"Dumbledore's Army. It was the club your mum, and Harry, and Ron started in their fifth year to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts." The more Ginny talked, the more confused Scorpius found himself. The more he realized just how much he didn't know about his parents lives before him.

"Why did Harry need to teach, though? Didn't you have a Professor for that?"

Ron answered this time, a smile still on his face. "Well, yes, but you have to understand, Scorpius. When we were in school, DADA Professor wasn't exactly a long-term position. And that year, we had the worst teacher imaginable. And your mum thought it would be a good idea to start this little secret club of ours, right under that bint's nose. It was one of the first times I'd ever seen her excited about rule-breaking."

Scorpius wanted more. He suddenly regretted every opportunity he missed, where he could have asked his parents about this sort of thing. He'd always taken it for granted their history, always just assumed that the only exciting thing they'd done was fight Voldemort. He'd known his mum was clever; he'd never known she'd invented anything, though. He'd never known she'd made an illegal club in school. A part of him wanted to walk back to his parents' room and hear everything from their own lips. But he knew he couldn't do that; his father needed this time with his mother. He couldn't be cruel and take her away from him in any regard, now.

He looked up at his extended family, seated in this room. They all knew his mother so well. Surely, they could tell him what he wanted to hear.

"What else did Mum do?" Harry, Ginny, Ron, and Neville looked at him, surprised. They looked at one another, then Harry spoke.

"What do you want to know? She did an awful lot."

"Everything."

"Well, your mum was born-"

"Oh, Harry, stop teasing the poor boy." Ginny smacked him lightly on the arm, a smile back on her face.

"Well, then, let's see...." Harry sat back in his chair, thoughtful. He could mention that she could do magic before even stepping foot in Hogwarts... He could mention how she figured out the Basilisk their second year.... He didn't think Scorpius would care much for those stories; he already knew how smart his mother was. He could tell him about saving Sirius.... but that story would take far too much to explain....

"Did you know your mum dated Viktor Krum?" That was Ron, always focusing on sports.

Scorpius looked surprised; he remembered, as a child, idolizing the Bulgarian Quidditch player. Though now that he thought about it, he finally understood every time his father would grumble when he mentioned Krum. "Nothing special", he would say. He could have laughed. "Really?"

"Yea, back in our fourth year. He was a Triwizard Champion" here Scorpius nodded. He knew Krum's entire biography by heart from the time he could read. "He took your mum to the Yule Ball and everything. Even saved her from the lake."

Scorpius remembered reading about Krum's Triwiard adventures. The second task; where the Champions had to save their "treasure" from the depths of the Black Lake. He couldn't imagine his father taking too kindly to his mum being another man's treasure.

"How'd Dad take it?"

Ron looked confused. " 'Scuse me?"

"How'd Dad take it? Mum being another man's Treasure, I mean."

Ron smirked. "Well, Scorpius, your parents weren't together at the time. In fact, I don't think they were really even on speaking terms. What, after your mum punched Draco in the face the year before..."

"What?!" Now this was something Scorpius never expected. He had imagined his parents had been just like him and Victoire; love at first sight, almost. He never thought his mum would ever have violent towards his dad.

"Yea, well, he deserved it. Great bloody git, your dad was."

"Now Ron, be fair. You know as well as I do why that was. And I think he more than made up for it. I mean, he did save her life-"

"What?!" Scorpius was overwhelmed. Exactly how much was there he didn't know?!

"Well, I guess we know where to start, then," said Harry, pushing his glasses back up his nose. "Your mum and dad had been enemies, absolutely hated each other, up until around the end of fifth year."

Scorpius was baffled. "But how could they have hated each other? They're mates. You don't bond with someone you hate."

"Well, I suppose I should say your mum hated your dad. Draco only acted like he hated her."

"Harry, dear, I think you're going to have to explain that a little bit."

Harry chuckled. "I'm not quite used to this storytelling, I suppose. You'll have to forgive me, Scorpius." Scorpius nodded, quickly becoming fascinated in this, up until now, undiscovered aspect of his parents' history. "Well, you know about your grandfather, I suppose?"

"Lucius? Yea. I mean, I never met him, but Dad told me he was a Death Eater."

"He wasn't just any Death Eater, Scorpius. He was in Voldemort's inner circle." Another blow to Scorpius. "And though Voldemort had resurrected in our fourth year, nobody believed any of it- nobody in power aside from Dumbledore, at least- until the end of our fifth year. There was a battle at the Ministry, and Voldemort showed himself."

Scorpius nodded. He remembered studying Voldemort's second rise to power in school. Of course, they never mentioned the Ministry's ignorance, but that was to be expected. And frankly, from what he'd heard of the Ministry at the time, he wasn't surprised.

"Well, when Fudge and the aurors showed up, they arrested all the Death Eaters present. Including Lucius. It was more or less expected he wasn't going to see the light of day again. And that's about the time your dad started pursuing your mum."

"He waited five years? Even knowing it was her?" Scorpius couldn't imagine how that would feel. Unrequitted love was one thing. Unrequitted bonds...

"He had no choice. Your grandfather would've killed her, had he known. He wasn't at all sensitive to Veela needs; your grandmother, on the other hand, pestered Draco every chance she got if he'd found his mate, so I've been told."

Scorpius took a moment to process this. He'd seen blood prejudice, here and there, growing up. Even after the war, there were those who thought Muggle-borns were still inferior to Purebloods in some undefinable way. He'd known the war was fought over blood purity; he'd known all about Voldemort's propaganda- he'd learned all about that in school, too. He still found it jarring that it hit so close to himself; it was something you read about in textbooks, it had a sense of the foreign. He never expected that level of prejudice was something his parents had had to go through. Then again, he'd never considered the idea.

"So what happened?" he asked Harry. "Lucius was imprisoned. Did Dad just walk up to her one day and tell her?"

Harry laughed. "Not quite. You're father's a smart man, Scorpius. I'm pretty sure he realized that if he tried anything like that, it would result in another fist in his face. No, he was a bit more subtle about it."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, for starters, he started using her name."

"He started calling her Hermione? Just out of the blue?" Scorpius thought that was rather suspicious sounding, still.

"Oh, no. He started calling her Granger." Seeing the question about to come from Scorpius' mouth, he explained, "He called her Mudblood before that."

Harry could see the shock on the young man's face. He was quite enjoying this; dropping bomb after bomb, not even at the juiciest parts yet, and he was already overwhelming Scorpius. "He had to keep up a front, remember. He hadn't thought of blood purity, so he's said, since he set eyes on your mother. But he couldn't let anyone know that. Not with Lucius as a father.

When he started just calling her Granger, we figured it was a sense of self-preservation kicking in; his father was just imprisoned for Death Eater activity. Why would he do anything that could out himself as the same? It wasn't much, at first. But then things started piling up, and adding together. Your mum saw it before any of us did, though. No surprise there, I'm sure." Scorpius nodded.

"It really wasn't much at first. Like I said, we all thought he was just acting to save his own skin. But then the letters started coming."

"Letters?"

"Hermione started getting letters from a secret admirer, of sorts. And even they didn't start out as much at all...."

* * *

_Hermione, Ron, and Harry were sitting in the Gryffindor Common Room, circled around the fireplace. They were all quiet; Harry was brooding, and Hermione and Ron were wary of saying anything, lest they set him off again. The common room was oddly quiet for this time of year; usually, with exams over with, students would be talking, laughing, enjoying to the fullest extent the rest of their time at Hogwarts. But it was subdued, and with good reason. Even as they spoke, the _Evening Prophet_ was being delivered, with news of Voldemort's return.__A sharp rap came to the window, another owl delivering mail. Most likely another letter from a scared parent, telling their child they would come collect them immediately, or warning them not to make eye contact with anybody on the platform tomorrow. Somebody near the window let the owl in, and it circled the room for a moment before, to the surprise of the three friends, landing in Hermione's lap._

_"Hermione, who-?"_

_"I don't know, Ron. I mean, I doubt it's my parents. They stopped reading the Prophet__ as soon as I told them they were lying about Harry... Besides, this looks like one of the school owls..."_

_Hermione pulled the letter from the owl's leg, petted on the head, and it flew away. As she opened the envelope, a small bracelet fell out. Aside from the bracelet, only a small note lay within._

_"Oh, my. I thought I'd lost this weeks ago. I wonder who found it."_

_She read the note, hoping she'd be able to thank the kind soul. All the note said was,_

I noticed you left this sitting in Potions class. I figured you'd want it back, as I've never seen you without it before.

Enjoy your summer.

_Hermione was puzzled. She couldn't recognize the handwriting. Neither could Ron or Harry, when she showed them. Also, who paid that much attention to her, to notice when a piece of jewelry was missing?_

_Then again, she wasn't the only observant person in this school. For all she knew, it could have been anybody, just trying to do a good deed. Probably a Slytherin; it would make sense then, that the note wasn't signed. After all, what Slytherin wanted it broadcast that they showed kindness to Mudbloods?_

_She smiled at her good fortune, and took it for what it was. A random act of kindness._

* * *

"Of course, since he never signed it, we didn't know it was your dad until considerably later. After the other letters came. And come they did. All through the summer, in fact."

"And when did she realize it was Dad?"

"Oh, Scorpius, that's the best part of the story..."

* * *

AN: Well, there you go. Flashback number one. There will be MANY of these, so be prepared. As always, leave your love in the little blue box. Thanks!


	5. Chapter 5

What Luna Said

By SilverCrystalArtemis

AN: Holy rusted metal, Batman! You weren't expecting this at ALL, were you? You thought I'd let this story fall into development Hell, didn't you? Oh, ye of little faith. In all actuality, it's been beating out a samba in my brain for the past few years, but life has been busy. Busy doesn't even cover it. Busytastic? Busitacular? Busipocalypse? Anyway, I'm BAAAACK. Getting back into the swing of writing non-stream of consciousness science fiction, so forgive me if the chapter's a little rough. I'll be going back and fine-tuning this story soonish. Sooner than two years from now, at least. Hope you enjoy it.

Disclaimer: I own more things now. HP isn't one of them.

* * *

What Luna Said

Chapter Five

_He sent the owl off with the parcel, already feeling the loss of that small something hers. He fought with himself about giving it back; there was a good chance that, no matter how hard he tried to make amends, she'd still reject him. It would have been better to have some small piece of her around, to ease the suffering in that case._

_Either way, he took the gamble. Five years was too long to have been without her. He knew he physically couldn't take much more, and this was the best peace offering he could give. He warred with himself for over an hour as to whether to sign the note. Would she take it as a sign he had cursed her jewelry? Would she just throw it at him in the morning and accuse him of theft? He had already written the same note five times, going between confessing all to her and writing the pathetically short missive he did send, with the disguised handwriting. Parts of him railed against not jumping in full-tilt towards winning her over, but damn it, he was no fool-headed Gryffindor. He was a Slytherin, and that meant self-preservation and cunning always won out. Even when it was a toss-up as to how much self-preservation could be had in a situation of literally life and death._

_He had known for years that it could come to this; between his mother's warnings of denying his Veela and his father's puritanical rage, he was all too aware from the first time he saw her in the Great Hall and his spine shivered that the only way he could ever be with her would come most likely at too little, too late to salvage any relationship, and save himself. _

_He was uncomfortably aware of the physical repercussions of denying the Veela. For the past year and a half, now- ever since he had seen her on the arm of that Bulgarian blockhead- his instincts had been in a near fury. He could barely sleep, and if he did, it was terrorizing. He was starting to feel constantly fevered, nauseous, light-headed. It was an ever-present struggle to keep from tackling her in the halls, just for a small moment of relief. But he couldn't. That would ruin him. To have her close, to feel that, and then have it ripped away, physically as well as emotionally? It would kill him. And he wished he was being poetic. Every cell, every nerve, screamed for communion with hers. His body would not be able to handle the shock of that closeness, only to have it blocked from him._

_Which brought him to his plan. Now that Lucius was locked away, hopefully driven mad and dying by the Dementors, he had half a chance to win her over. Explain to her the whys and hows of who he was, apologize, and maybe, gods, maybe, get her to love him._

_He slammed his head into the headboard of his bed, ignoring the irate ramblings of his dorm-mates, and, shakingly, picked up his quill and attempted to flesh out his next letter to her. This one would require time._

* * *

Draco shocked awake, jostling Hermione in the too-small bed. What had made him dream of that, of all things? Really, in nearly six decades of knowing the woman, _that_ was where his mind was dwelling? He looked to his side, Hermione still peacefully asleep. He stroked her hair, gently, needing to touch more of her. Even in this state, she nuzzled his palm as it came close to her cheek. He smiled a small, tired smile, a comfortable flare of love and connection from her flaring at the action. His hand found its way down her back and, using it to pull himself ever closer to her, he fell back asleep next to his wife, for what he worried was the last time.

* * *

Harry leaned back, smirking, letting his thoughts trail off. He was gaining some perverse enjoyment out of tormenting the younger Malfoy, he would admit. As close as he and Draco had become in the intervening years since then, he still held a small grudge over the other man's know-it-all nature. As if he and Hermione weren't well-suited enough. Realizing he was lost in his thoughts, he looked up to realize Scorpius was staring at him, impatient, nearly exasperated. It was funny, really. Even though he looked like a near carbon copy of Draco- aside from the eyes; he had his mother's eyes- almost his entire personality came from Hermione. How many times had he seen that look?

"You can't possibly leave it there."

Harry looked over, surprised, to hear that come from his own daughter. He looked around and noticed that nearly the whole group was looking at him the same way Scorpius was.

"I wasn't planning to. Just got a bit lost in thought."

"Then maybe I'll talk a bit." This came from Ron, who had pulled up a chair and now sat directly across from Harry. Somewhere in his telling, the line of people had converged into a circle, blocking out as much of the depressing atmosphere as possible, and focusing whole-heartedly on the tale.

Stretching his arms down to the fingers, cracking his knuckles- and earning himself a dirty glare from his sister- Ron took a deep breath and began his part.

"It wasn't until after we left school that Hermione got another letter from this mystery person. We had talked about it a few times, of course, but only in passing. There was too much to focus on at the time. But she was mad, trying to figure out who it could be. She was positive it had to be a Slytherin, and Harry and I knew better than to disagree with her; she was almost always right, anyway.

I actually remember her saying she was disappointed she couldn't send a thank you note back- the owl dashed off as soon as it dropped the parcel. And Hermione, well, Hermione took it as a missed opportunity to help someone who needed it. She was sure that this was someone who had found an opening for safety, with most of the Death Eaters locked away, and was too scared to come out about it.

She came to stay with us about a week into the summer break, and when she did, did she ever have news to share."

* * *

_Hermione dashed into the house, smiling widely and greeting everybody, but Ron could see from a room away that glint in her eye. The one that meant she had exciting news to share. He was just hoping it wasn't to do with a new book she had read; there was only so much intellectual prattle he could take, especially on his holiday. Once she was settled in, she dragged him bodily into his own room, a small mountain of paper clutched in one hand._

_She sat down on his bed, practically rattling with excitement. Ron took a deep breath, and prepared himself for the worst._

_"I only got this a few days ago, and I almost wrote you and Harry about it, but I didn't even know where to start!" That was new. Interested, he sat down next to her, ready for more._

_"It's from the same person- a Slytherin, I'm sure of it! It's not quite the same handwriting, which makes me think they're still shy about whoever they are. But, Ron, look!"_

_She held up the papers in her right hand, not quite shaking them in his face. He reached out for them and, almost as a second thought, Hermione pulled them back into her own focus, clearly too excited to wait for him to read it himself._

_"I'd been stuck on it for days, trying to figure out how far this would go and then, one morning before dawn, even!- there was a post owl at my window. Just a regular owl;I didn't recognize it as anybody's I'd seen, but still! And listen, some of this is just-" She ruffled the papers, putting them in some order only she could understand in her hands, and began to read to him._

_" 'I'm not making excuses for what we did, and I'm by no means speaking for everybody, but there's something I need to explain. For those of us raised in Pureblood households, you had one of two options: either believe it, or pretend to. Our society doesn't accept tradition-breakers. Look at your Weasley friends.' Before you start, Ron, they don't say anything actually rude. 'Because of their fascination with all things muggle and their acceptance of the "new culture", they may as well be social pariahs. Imagine if you didn't have your entire family backing you up. It's a dangerous, violent social game we play. We have to look like we conform, or else. It's no excuse for how we- how I- have treated you all these years. I'm sorry.' And you said none of them had soul enough to apologize, Ronald! _

_She flipped the pages around, skipping what she thought was unnecessary for his understanding. She skimmed down the last page, looking for something specific. "Here we go: 'I know I'm asking too much of you. Still, I can't help but wonder if we could find some common ground. There's a bit of an eye in the storm, right now. I won't say it's safe for those like me to be out about our beliefs, but maybe there's a chance for a truce? I've instructed my owl to wait for a response. If you have none, I understand. Just tell the bird, and he'll be on his way. But I can't help but hope.' There's a little more, but it's more of the same. Oh, Ron! Do you-"_

_"Please tell me you told the damned bird to shove off, 'Mione." He cut her off, not liking the look in her eyes one bit now._

_She stared back at him, appalled. "Of course not! If I had, it would have been no better than the entire reason for this war! The very least I could do was offer some forgiveness and acceptance to someone who clearly needs it. After all, I-"_

_"Damn it, Hermione, this isn't another SPEW-!"_

_"It's not 'SPEW', Ronald!"_

_"It's the child of a bloody Death Eater, Hermione! How the bloody Hell do you know this isn't just some giant game or, or trap? You can't trust that slime as far as you can throw them! I-"_

_But Hermione had had enough. Before he could blink, she had slapped him clear across the face, stood up, and stormed out of his room, slamming his door loud enough to knock his posters of his walls. It was another two days before she talked to him again, and that was only because he gave up. At breakfast, he noticed Hermione sitting with another small encyclopedia of a letter in her hand and, between bites of egg, he asked "What'd he say this time?"_

_Hermione smiled at him, not even taking him to task about table manners, and replied, "He wished me a good summer," before piling her plate in the sink and walking out into the back garden._

* * *

"Ron, you make it sound like she was infatuated with him from the start! You know that's not Hermione."

Ron looked up, and smiled sheepishly at his sister. A year younger than him, sure, but Weasley women weren't something to be messed with.

Scorpius turned to Ginny, now. "She wasn't?"

"Oh, no. You see, you never saw your mother before she, err, toned down a bit. Once your mother sunk her teeth into a project, she never let it go. I remember her third year, she took every class available. Had a time-turner and everything, specially licensed to her. Even took Muggle Studies." At this Scorpius snorted. "You laugh, but remember she could have taught the class better than any of the staff. She grew up in that culture. Her fourth year, she tried to hunger strike for the sake of House Elves. That's just who she was. It wasn't until after the war she gained a sense of moderation. She wasn't in love with him after two letters. She just knew my brother would be an arse about it, and decided to enjoy her newest fascination the way she did everything else: whole-heartedly."

Ginny was about to say more before Scorpius could ask another question- she could see his mouth start to open, but their group was interrupted by another round of family. James and Albus came walking in the door to the waiting room, and Lily and Victoire moved to pull more chairs.

"Hey, mum, dad, everybody. Sorry, there was a bit of trouble with the portkey. Landed us in Albania the first time. But Teddy's on his way, too. He said he's picking up Luna."

Well, there you have it. I hope you liked it. Characters are a little bit flat, here, but I'll fix that. And I really hope you review!


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